<Chapter 89 Protective Bo…
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Chapter 89: Protective Bonds
Chapter 89: Protective Bonds
(Scarlett’s POV)
I froze, staring at the phone in my hand. Had I just hung up on Roman? My heart sank. My finger hovered over the screen. Should I call him back? Before I could make up my mind, the phone vibrated again. His name lit
up the screen.
“Roman,” I answered quickly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Sorry about that–I didn’t mean to hang up. It
was an accident.”
His voice, rich with amusement, flooded my ears. “An accident?” he teased. “Or were you avoiding my
question?”
“I wasn’t avoiding it,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably. My gaze dropped to the desk in front of me, and I bit my lip.
“Good,” he said, his tone lowering, softening. “Then answer me, little wolf. Do you miss me?”
I swallowed hard, his words making my heart race. The nickname only he used felt like it carried so much weight. My voice barely came out. “I… I do.”
His laugh on the other end was warm, pleased. “I thought so. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” There was a pause, then his tone shifted, lighter, more playful. “Tonight, the chef will prepare something special. A candlelight dinner at the manor. Don’t be late, Scarlett.”
“Roman, you don’t have to-”
“I want to,” he interrupted firmly. “Let me.”
I sighed, the warmth in his tone breaking down my hesitation. “Alright,” I agreed softly. “Dinner, then.”
His chuckle came through the life, leisurely and content. “Good. Now, tell me. How are the Winter Pack and their little schemes? What are Sarah and Alexander up to?”
The mention of those names brought tension flooding back into my shoulders. While Roman’s voice was calm, mine hardened. “They’re still desperate,” I said simply. “I heard Sarah is trying to pressure Aiden into treating Grace.”
“And Aiden?” Roman pressed, his tone sharp now.
“He hasn’t budged,” I assured him. “Not yet.”
Roman chuckled, but the sound was darker this time. “Let them try. I’ve already taken steps to press them harder. Harder than they’ll ever expect,” he said, his voice cold now, dripping with certainty. “If they think scrambling for Aiden will save Grace, they’re gravely mistaken. But tell me this–do you think I should escalate things further, Scarlett?”
I thought about it–Sarah’s incessant manipulation, Grace’s poisonous words, Alexander’s interference. They’d all been clawing at me for months, trying to drag me down. But something stopped me from pushing for more retaliation. There was satisfaction in knowing their schemes were crumbling without my active
effort.
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“No,” I said finally, my voice resolute. “Let them squirm. They’ve done enough to themselves. They’re their own
worst enemies.”
Roman’s laughter returned, softer, more amused. “As you wish. Let the Winter Pack bury themselves. But remember, Scarlett–if they so much as blink the wrong way in your direction, you tell me. Their suffering doesn’t bother me nearly as much as keeping you safe.”
His words warmed me in a way I wasn’t ready to admit. But before I could respond, he changed the subject,
his tone playful again.
“Now, wear something stunning tonight,” he said. “I want the stars to feel jealous when they look at you.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, though my lips curled into a smile. “Alright, Roman. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Don’t make me wait, little wolf.”
The call ended, and I stared at the phone in my hands, warmth lingering in my chest. For a moment, I let myself relax, the sound of his voice still echoing in my ears.
(Alexander’s POV)
My frustration churned like a storm inside me. The memory of Scarlett’s cold words from our last encounter clung to me, refusing to fade.
“She’s different now,” I muttered to Jason, pacing the confines of the study. “It’s like she’s someone else entirely. The Scarlett I knew… I don’t know who she is anymore.”
Jason was calm, leaning against the wall with that same infuriatingly neutral expression he always wore. “Or maybe she’s finally who she’s always been, Alexander. You just didn’t notice back then.”
I glared at him, his words only adding fuel to the fire. “No. The Scarlett I knew wasn’t like this. She wasn’t-“I
didn’t trailed off, searching for the right word. “She wasn’t so independent. So sharp. She didn’t act like
need me.”
Jason let out a low chuckle. “Sounds like the issue isn’t her change. It’s that she stopped depending on you.” My jaw clenched. He wasn’t wrong, but I hated hearing it. “You’re misunderstanding. Her independence isn’t the problem. It’s how she’s going about it. Look at her. Roman. Nathan. Who knows who else. She shrouds herself in all these men with power. Do you really think she’s not using them?”
Jason frowned. “I think you’re oversimplifying,” he said evenly. “Look at what she’s built. That healing center is no joke, Alexander. People rely on it. It’s not something you just throw together. And it’s definitely not something she could’ve built on manipulation alone.”
“She’s not harmless,” I insisted, my voice rising. “You should know that better than anyone. She’s always
calculating.”
Jason let out a small sigh, running his hand through his hair. “Believe what you want, Alexander. But maybe the issue is that you underestimated hack then. And now it’s too late to catch up.”
I didn’t respond. His words stung. But rather than show it, I stormed toward the study door.
As I pulled it open, I threw one parting shot over my shoulder. “I don’t care what you think. I’m going to see Grace. At least she’s someone who still has loyalty.”
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The sanatorium was quiet when I arrived. The faint smell of herbs filled the air, and the distant sound of soft
music drifted through the open hallways.
Sarah greeted me at the entrance with a bright smile. “Alexander, you made it.”
I nodded, though I couldn’t help but glance past her, searching for Grace. “Of course. How is she today?”
Sarah’s expression faltered slightly, but she quickly recovered. “She’s better now that you’re here. Go on. She’s been asking about you all morning.”
I stepped past her and entered Grace’s room.
She sat propped up by a mountain of pillows, her pale blue eyes lighting up when she saw me. “Alexander,” she whispered, her voice weak but full of emotion.
I crossed the room and settled into the chair beside her bed. “I’m here,” I said softly, reaching for her hand. Her fingers curled around mine, ice–cold to the touch.
“You always come,” she said with a faint smile. “Thank you for not abandoning me, Alexander.”
Her words twisted something deep inside me. She was so fragile, so dependent on me, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to be the one to deliver hope. Not when so much was uncertain.
“I’ll always come for you,” I promised, trying to keep my voice steady. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
Her eyes drifted to the window, her expression suddenly wistful. “The mansion–have you made any progress?
I froze, the question punching me in the gut. I couldn’t bring myself to admit the truth, not when I saw the faint hope lighting her eyes. “It’s… progressing,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry. We’re close.”
. you Her thin lips curled into a faint smile. “That house will feel like a dream. Do you remember the art about? The ones I wanted to hang in the sitting room? I was thinking we could add roses, too. Pink ones. They’d look so beautiful.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Her calm acceptance of the mansion as a certainty–when it felt like anything but–made my chest ache.
Then her eyes turned serious, filled with an emotion I didn’t expect. “Alexander,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “If… if the silver gets me before the mansion…” She paused, her gaze swimming with unshed tears. “Promise me you’ll bury me by the sea.”
My heart seized. “Stop,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. “Don’t talk like that. You’re going to make it. You won’t-”
“Promise me,” she pressed, her hand gripping mine weakly, but urgently.
Icovered her hand with my other one, my throat tight. “Don’t say things like that, Grace. I won’t let you die. You hear me? You’ll live. You’ll see the roses.”
Her lip trembled, but she gave me a fant ngd, seemingly reassured by my words.
Before I could say anything more, my phone buzzed loudly in my pocket. My mother’s name glared up at me from the screen.
I answered reluctantly, already bracing myself for her sharp tone.
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“Alexander,” she barked. “Your father wants you home. Now”
“Mother, I-”
“I’m not interested in excuses,” she snapped. “You’ve spent enough time with Grace. It’s unbecoming, Alexander. And it’s not helping your standing with the family. Return home immediately.”
I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the phone. “I can’t just abandon her!”
“I’ve heard enough,” she said coldly before ending the call without waiting for a response.
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I sighed heavily, setting the phone down and looking back at Grace. She was staring at me, worry etched into
her frail features.
“Alexander?” she whispered.
I forced a smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s nothing. I’ll handle it. You rest, Grace.”
Though her lips pressed into a faint smile, the doubt in her eyes felt like a mirror to the uncertainty blooming in my chest.
As I left the sanatorium, the weight of my family’s expectations and Grace’s fragility pulled me in opposite directions. For the first time in years, I felt truly, utterly lost.
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